How To Be A Snow Goddess

How To Be A Snow Goddess

(Or No More Herky Jerky Down the Hill)

By SkiMum Paula

Legs together, standing tall, cruising down some crazy-steep black diamond at lightning fast speed.  Dream on, girlfriend!

Now, wa-wa-wait just a minute.  Why can’t I ski like a Swiss snow goddess? Because you started with pizza and French fries, that’s why.

On another outing with Snowbird Mountain School Instructor Emilia, several Skimums stated longingly that they wanted to “ski like that”.  Emilia had just cruised ahead of us to the bottom of a gully off of Lupine Loop.  Although she is petite, she skied tall with her legs together and her body square and pointed downhill.  She also made it down fast with few turns making it look like a graceful ballet instead of the Elaine Dance.  [For the young and culturally uniformed, this is a classic Seinfeld reference used to describe Elaine’s dancing style (set to Shining Star performed by Earth, Wind and Fire), which George called, “a full bodied dry heave set to music” in The Little Kicks episode.]

Because moaning travels downhill quickly at high altitudes, Emilia took pity and shared with us the secrets of skiing like a Swiss snow goddess.

Here it is – Don’t carve.  Well, not in the traditional sense.  Not in the sense that was first explained to us when we first stepped onto skis 10, 20, ok, 30 and I’m not going any higher years ago.  You don’t ski pizza or French fries anymore, and you and your equipment have evolved from that first carving lesson, too.  By the way, what is it with skiing and food references?  Chocolate chips, mashed potatoes, death cookies, noodles, butter the snow.  Carving is what we’re all told to aspire to but, like most things, we often take it too far.  To make a clean arc, you want to get on the edge of the ski.  However, if you go beyond that (and, if you’re being honest, you sometimes do especially on a steep) then you are slowing yourself down, as evidenced by the rooster tail of snow produced by friction which, BY DEFINITION, means an opposing force is slowing your butt down.  The other pickle you can find yourself in is when you carve and then sideslip to skim altitude, the skiers’ walk of shame.

Emilia retaught us how to carve by deconstructing our turns and suggesting we flatten the skis half way through for a brief second, as in, when they are pointing downward!  Because physics works, this produced forward momentum and acceleration.  This also meant less braking in our turns and less sideslipping. While this may seem ridiculously simple and, actually, downright simplistic, like many of the visual cues she’s given us, it worked.

Many Skimums have realized that even when we know the mechanics, the mind can wreak havoc on our skiing.  We get so worried about our ability to turn and control our speed – things we truly know how to do and are all but guaranteed with modern equipment – that we try to fight the forces of nature (including, gravity, of all things) instead of using them to overcome those things we fear most.  By reminding ourselves to flatten after initiating our turns, we’re able to allow bodies and skis to take care of themselves.  By focusing on that one little thing, we engaged and centered both legs for a split second causing our bodies to stand tall and square and our skis to stay together and point down the hill.  We looked better and felt great.

Cue the music. I feel like dancing!

Date Night… In The Morning… Wearing Ski Boots

By SkiMum Paula

I mentioned to some friends last night that my hubby gave me exactly what I wanted for Christmakah, the multi-cultural holiday we celebrate (for what seems like the entire month of December) that makes my children spoiled rotten and my in-laws very happy.  I asked for Date Night coupons to be redeemed once a month for the following year.  Being a good guy (and recognizing the not-so-subtle hint), he stepped up and offered two per month.

If this sounds bizarre, then I’ll just assume you’re unmarried or newly married and don’t have children.  Just play along and tuck this away for future reference.

With hectic lives, little ones underfoot and, even worse, teenagers at the wheel, it gets harder and harder to carve out time for ourselves and nearly impossible to do so with our spouses.  Add finding a babysitter, bribing a sibling or, if necessary, flying in a granny, it’s a wonder that we ever get out with our mates at all.

Like Charlie with his Golden Ticket, I eagerly presented my coupon to ski with my sweetie at The Bird.  He was going to be there anyway for a meeting and said he had a few hours before he had to be back at the office.  So, after taking the kids to school (more like slowing down in the carpool lane and nudging them out), I bolted up the canyon and met him at the Plaza, where we took the tram to the top and skied down again and again as the sun burned off the morning clouds on the front and back sides.  There was an unexpected dusting of new snow and, being midweek, no crowds.  What a day!  What a date!

[Singing]  If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it. Anything you want to, do it; want to change the world… there’s nothing to it.  –Willy Wonka

And we talked.  Riding the lifts together in the center of the seat, we talked about the mountain, where we wanted to ski next, how I was skiing so well this season (thank you, Skimums), whether to stop at Mid Gad for hot chocolate, how we should come back in August to hike among the wildflowers.  What’s absent from this list?  All the stuff that consumes conversations down the mountain.  Good stuff, but stuff that, for a few hours could wait.

No, it wasn’t a date in the traditional sense, but instead of sitting in a dark theatre watching a Shoot ‘Em Up, Oompa Loompas or a Chick Flick — silently and passively, we were actually engaged in the activity and, more importantly, one another.  Hmmm, we could be on to something.  I’ll have to redeem a lot more coupons to test my theory.  Thankfully, the season at Snowbird is long.

But Charlie, don’t forget what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he always wanted? … He lived happily ever after.  –Willy Wonka

I think it was originally called The Spahhhhhh

By SkiMum Paulamums_Spahhhh

Have you ever had a day, week or month (any longer and I can recommend a great therapist) where you just couldn’t catch your breath?  Where you find yourself doing, doing, doing?  Where your turn and find your shoulders wrapped around your ears?

Not good.  Not right.  Try to ski like that.  Try to be nice to your friends, husbands or kids like that.

Maybe it was record days of cold, snow, yucky air, runny noses, flu bugs (projectile vomiting? Really?), science fair projects (or, as my kid calls it, “science un-fair”), volunteer commitments, or the dreaded laundry, which, honestly, is piled so high right now I could sell lift tickets.  “I just want to sit on a warm beach with a fruity drink in my hand!” I whined to my Skimums.

After emailing Snowbird one of my musings on a day in the life of Skimums, the folks there suggested I hit the Cliff Spa and write about that.  Whether they believed that I would write an informative and amusing bit about the spa high in the sky or “that girl needs a break,” their timing was beyond perfect.  So, I grabbed my SkiMum gal pal, Bettina, who had a gift certificate her hubby (hint, hint), and hit the Spa.

Some pictures do, in fact, say a thousand words –

Like most spas, The Cliff Spa asks you to arrive early so you can relax and take advantage of the amenities.  Bettina was running late and wasn’t sure how to get there (for those that know her, stop laughing), so, I threw on a robe, chucked my gear in two lockers (I never pack light) and plopped into a comfy leather chair in the Solarium, a long, skinny room flanked by a wall of windows overlooking Chip’s Face.  The sun was just coming over the Peak.  This was starting to look and feel really nice.  Honestly, the only thing I could complain about was that there weren’t enough magazines to allow me to just sit there, unbothered, in the sunshine all day long.

Bettina arrived, and we grabbed some herb tea and cold water (hydration is key at a spa), and opened the door to the steam room.  Whoosh, eucalyptus filled my nostrils. An aromatic steam room.  Very nice.

Before long, Judy, came to take me to a “treatment room” for my Cliff Custom Massage.  Also facing the mountain, the room was filled with warmth as the sun was now streaming in and onto the table.  “Do you want the curtain open or closed?  Some people like it completely dark,” queried Judy.  “No, no, please, keep it open.  The sun feels great,” I replied.  Then Judy went to work.  I’ve had plenty of massages over the years with the therapists all telling me the same thing, “Your shoulders are full of knots and tension.  You carry all of your worries here.  It’s very common. You shouldn’t wait a year to work these out.”  God bless Judy.  One knot gone, another muscle loosened.  I don’t know how long I was in there, because, for the first time ever, I fell asleep.

Afterward, I didn’t see Bettina, who bewilderedly confessed later, that she, too, dozed during her facial.  So, I went to check out the rooftop pool and hot tub.  I’m not a swimmer, must be the short legs and intense feelings about being immersed in hot versus cold water, but I could have done laps in the hot tub as it was almost as big as the pool.  Flash back to the picture above – the hot tub was amazing.  The only thing I was missing was the pina colada.  A half-hour later …

I eventually met Bettina back in the Ladies’ Locker Room, which, in addition to showers, towels, robes and lotions, has the only sauna with a view.  If you’re even a tiny bit claustrophobic, this “dry” sauna, with a picture window looking out onto Little Cottonwood Canyon, is the place for you.   Bettina had to beg off on lunch leaving me to get dressed to meet my husband on the slopes.

A brief but notable aside… Knowing I would ski afterward, I decided to valet my car at The Cliff Lodge so I wouldn’t have to walk back and forth from my typical parking spot.  Tommy and the guys kept my car and my skis while I went to the Spa.  Afterward, they stowed my Spa gear, handed me my skis and gave me all the “inside” tips on where to ski out and ski in from there (the elevator takes you right to Chickadee and cat tracks back are right outside the entrance).  Heading up toward the doors to Chickadee, the Lodge Manager even offered to carry my skis.  I felt like I was actually on vacation.  There is no charge to valet at The Cliff Lodge, but gratuities are appreciated.

Mums_Spahh2

Before leaving the Lodge to ski, I stopped at the snack shop to grab a Luna Bar and another drink (I wasn’t kidding about hydration).  Plopping myself into a leather club chair in the adjacent lounge staring out the sun-filled windows, I looked at my Sobe and laughed.  A fruity drink.  It truly was a magical day.

Girls and Their Shoes

Girls and their Shoes

By SkiMum Paula

I’m not quite Carrie Bradshaw, but I have a “thing” for shoes.  I had my shoe epiphany about a decade ago while living in Houston.  Southern girls love their shoes like they love their hair – high and glamorous!  Stereotypes aside, let me tell you, that my “big girl” shoes make me look and feel taller and more confident and, as my husband will ashamedly tell you, I’ve been stopped in multiple airport security lines by strangers and TSA to compliment me on my adorable red patent leather Jessica Simpson wedges rising 4” above the tile.  Needless to say, I know my shoes.

You know what I apparently know nothing about?  Ski boots!  Moving to Utah two years ago, I decided that, as a local, I needed to own ski boots.  So, I went to the store and bought some really cute ones that didn’t pinch my wide little feet.  You see where this is going. They were great … for four days (about the time spent in a spring break rental pair).  After that, my feet were swimming in them.  Because I spent a fair amount on them (and, retail, doggoneit), I sucked it up for the rest of the season and another and until last week when I had a powder lesson with my Skimums at Snowbird.  When the Mountain School instructor explained that my big toe needed to touch the bottom of the boot to feel the ski (and the Skimums all nodded and um-hummed), I realized I was busted.  My big toe was all over the place trying to keep me balanced and warm.  My pals gave me a boot intervention and sent me to Inkline.

After dropping the kids at school one morning, I humbly walked in and told Chris and Rand my tale, one they apparently hear everyday.  “Ten out of ten people have boots that don’t fit,” said Chris.  Sounds like a great business model.  “Most are too big.”  He patiently explained that ski boots are not supposed to fit like Italian shoes.  They are supposed to be tight (like a glove not a tourniquet) so that your foot moves as little as possible inside the boot.  That way, the foot, boot and ski all move together.  This translates to using less effort in a more comfortable way, which leads to better skiing and fewer injuries.  “It takes a leap of faith to buy the right size boot, [but when] your boots fit right, your confidence goes through the roof,” he said.  Like in my “big girl” shoes. That’s how I want to feel sailing down the mountain.

And they take boot fitting very seriously… Throughout the morning, Chris and Rand sized, molded, heated and massaged my feet into boots, liners and insoles, which may, in fact, be the secret ingredient in boot fitting.  “Custom foot beds correct pronation [and a bunch of other podiatric issues I can’t pronounce] and improve circulation [read –keep your feet warm!!],” continued Chris.  Even I know that bad shoes (and, yes, high heels) can screw up your feet, knees and back.  So, why would I ignore properly fitting my ski boots where the activity itself presents risks of screwing things up?   Part physiologist, part guru, the boys waxed poetic about bones, muscles, flex, stance.  “I love someone talking about my feet for 4 hours,” cooed Snowbird’s Cliff Spa Massage Therapist, Hokyo, who was there getting her boots tweaked (btw, good fitters will make adjustments following customization – Inkline does it for free).  Chris, who mastered his trade after 18 years at Snowbird before striking out on his own 3 years ago, actually, still takes care of a lot of people there (ski patrol, instructors, employees, pro skiers, guests).  So, why am I just now doing this?

Over the years, I have put a fair amount of effort and money into skis (love my Liberty Envy All-Mountain skis in pink), jackets (plural –I admit it, jackets may have replaced shoes in my closet), pants (does my butt look good?), gloves (leather mittens are so warm), goggles (Oakley Illuminators to see in flat light), helmets (snug fit with those awesome drop-in headphones), passes (best snow, longest season – Snowbird, of course), and lessons (because we all want to get better), but it never occurred to me to get my boots fitted.  “That’s for Lindsey Vonn and rock stars,” I said.  Chris looked at me puzzled.  After all, he fitted my husband last season, the same frugal guy who has been encouraging me to do the same and to stay away from SuperTarget!  Boot fitting is no more a luxury to local skiers than all-wheel drive.  Yes, I can probably get away with front-wheel, but it certainly makes it harder and more dangerous.  I want to ski when I’m 80, and boots that fit will probably last that long as well as help me get there.  The costs to boot fitting vary depending on whether your boots actually fit or can be “packed” to fit.  You might simply need a different fitted liner.  Even so, there are so many boots for so many budgets –and even used boots– you can make it work for much less than a pair of Jimmy Choos.

“You won’t believe the difference!” chimes everyone: friends, family, strangers at Inkline, and the folks at 2nd Tracks next door (where I immediately consigned my former boots that were SOOOO big they remounted my bindings while I was there).  We shall see.  I know, like anything else, they’ll take some breaking in and adjustment but I suspect it’ll be easier than those Pradas I picked up for a steal at Name Droppers.  Gorgeous, but they still pinch my toes.  But, trust me, I’ll be fine, because, I still know my shoes.

These Powder Lessons Give SkiMums a Healthy Glow

By SkiMum Paula

Classic Tram Close

Recent storms cleared the valley air and brought great snow to Snowbird.  Unfortunately, after snowplowing behind the kiddos since Ross loved Rachel[1], most Skimums were a bit timid to take on the Bird’s renowned deep powder.  So, we did what smart girls do – we asked for directions.

On a Monday following a monster dump, the Mountain School provided the Skimums a powder lesson with Emilia.  Heading toward Peruvian with fat skis in hand, we passed several guys with bigger, fatter skis sporting frozen beards, caps and hair.  Not a good sign, but we were not deterred.

Our group of eight caught the lift and spent the ride catching up on Sundance, star sightings (check out Julie’s Instagram) and good new restaurants.  Do we live in the coolest place?  At the top, we got down to business. Halfway through a warm up on Chip’s Run, Emilia stopped to give us a pep talk.  “Just butter the snow,” she said.  Whaaaa?  She explained that, instead of “carving,” you need to stay centered on top of your skis, and keep them a bit flatter on the powder.  In other words, your skis are like butter knives; just spread it on.  I’m not sure of the culinary physics, but the mental picture seemed to work.  Heading down Chip’s Face, we tipped those fat skis downward and gave it a try.  Butter the snow, wax on, wax off, I don’t know, but the picture of using the skis to spread the powder underneath seemed to work, and I was floating downhill.  We all were.  No yard sales!!  On to Mineral Basin.

Ski Mums Powder

A small aside…  Can I just brag about my Skimums friend, Valerie, for a moment?  Oh, she is going to bust me for this.  Valerie is my hero this week.  She knows her limits, but will press them to move forward.  I watched her that morning when she looked (like we all do occasionally) a little bit hesitant.  Tipping over the edge of Nash Flora, a solid black that dives straight off the cat track down into Mineral Basin, was one of those moments.  Unlike me, who, in those situations, will gladly traverse to that nicely groomed run over yonder, Valerie pursed her lips and plunged over the edge.  No, she didn’t lead the way.  Instead, she carefully watched another Mum or two and followed them down — beautifully.  Was it not wanting to be left behind, yelling at herself to “just go already,” or believing that her girlfriends would show her the way?  I don’t know, but suspect that it was a little bit of everything and more.  I know that feeling.  It’s empowering, and that’s what I love about skiing with Skimums.

After a few runs in the Basin (powder days are great days to take advantage of the Mountain School priority lines!), the clouds rolled in, and our stomachs started rumbling.  Time to head towards food!  On the way, Emilia gave us a few more things to visualize explaining that, as in yoga, finding balance is a big key to powder skiing.  Picture yourself standing on top of those skis (so you’re centered) with your big toe grabbing the bottom of the boot (so you’re not sitting back).  The body remains upright (or, as SkiMum Kristen aka “Park City Kristen” declared, “Boobs out front!”), and legs are slightly closer together (better to butter with).  Maybe we just needed something to focus on other than the unknown, but visualization was the big lesson of the day.  Whether it was learning to butter the snow or watching your girlfriends show you the way, success was found when we pictured ourselves tipping our skis over the edge and floating all the way down.


[1] TV show, Friends, reference.  My teen just gave me a quizzical look.  OMG